The Loneliest of Lullabies
by Kanoozle
Summary: After what Pitch has done, he feels a longing for forgiveness. But one guardian still has the patience to consider him worth their time, and he is persistent to prove that he has no need to label the Nightmare King as a "bad guy." Inspired by the opening verse of 'Lonely Lullaby' by Owl City.


**The Loneliest of Lullabies**__

Symphony of silver tears,  
Sing to me and soothe the ring in my ears...  
Overcast these gloomy nights wear on,  
But I'm holding fast because it's darkest just before the dawn...  


The late afternoon was dreary and full of rain. It was dark and eerie, the perfect setting for the darkest of guardians. Pitch Black stood in the rain listening to howling wind whistling through the trees. A nightmare was with him, currently his only means of transport around the town. His faded golden eyes looked toward the sky, wondering why it was he'd felt the need to come out and stand in the rain. It was a very cleansing sensation though. After what he'd done, it was the only form of forgiveness he felt.

The King of Nightmares, the Bogeyman of all creatures was if only the teensiest bit lonely. He had no other companions other than the nightmares that haunted him or accompanied him. Pitch had been certain he was supposed to be a bringer of nightmares, not the receiver of such awful things. Even if he was so familiar with the restless nights, he still denied that the king of all nightmares had some of the more awful ones. It just sounded like a concept that made him sound weak and afraid of himself.

Pitch mounted the nightmare that was with him and gave it a gentle nudge, whispering the destination to it. As it gave a thunderous neigh, it galloped into the sky, and Pitch took this moment to secretly admire how nice it felt being rushed through the showers of rain. Mother Nature always created such magnificent things for the Earth, he thought before he found the nightmare halting abruptly.

"What is the meaning of this?! Why have you stopped?" Before the nightmare thought to answer the questions, Pitch looked to what had startled the nightmare. Oh, it was only _him_. Sanderson Mansnoozie, the Sandman, and the King of Sweet Dreams was in his way. The nightmare had stopped so abruptly so as to not trample over the only guardian that could ultimately alter it, thus possibly injuring Pitch in the process.  
"?" Upon being awoken from his nap, Sanderson rose with his large sand cloud, floating over to the man who'd disturbed his slumber. A somewhat angered question mark rose above Sanderson's head, followed by steam clouds shooting from his ears. Pitch rose a hand quickly in defense.

"Excuse me, but I wasn't the one who was sleeping in the clouds, little man."  
"!" Sanderson made a huffing motion, kicking at some of his sand a moment before giving a sigh. Many a sand picture appeared above his head as he questioned what the Nightmare King was doing out and about so early in the day. Pitch snorted and gently nudged for the nightmare to start trotting along through the clouds again.

"Wouldn't you like to know." As the nightmare began to trot along, Sanderson followed at an equal speed. More sand pictures appeared above his head and he questioned why Pitch wasn't answering the innocent question. Pitch looked to him and glared. "After what you and those guardians did, you shouldn't be surprised I'd prefer to not speak to you for a while." With that, the Nightmare King pulled sand reins from seemingly nowhere and called for the nightmare to gallop away. He still whispered the destination, however, and the nightmare galloped off as fast as it could.  
"?" Sanderson was clearly very confused by Pitch's actions. Sure, he flung him around with his sand whips, but he'd earned it! All of those awful things Pitch did just for attention... The Sandman gave a shudder and frowned in thought. Sure all the guardians got a little lonely, but he never really thought about Pitch so much. With how quick all the other guardians were to label him as a bad guy, he wasn't sure what to think. He was never so quick to judge anyone, be they children or guardian.

Uncertain how to react, Sanderson got into his sand plane and followed as close behind as he could before taking a detour to Pitch's lair. It was a bit difficult to hide anywhere in the dark place, especially when he personally glowed as well as his sand. As he heard foot steps he did his damnedest to hide fast.

"Why is it that I can't have just one day not spoiled by one of those rotten guardians?!" Pitch scowled as the nightmare ran off after he entered the lair. It left him all alone to his thoughts, or so he knew. Sanderson listened as Pitch began to speak his thoughts so openly to himself. "I thought I could spend just one day in the rain, that perhaps it would cleanse me... Cleanse me of the wrongdoing I tried so hard to achieve... I know now of my ill doing, why can I not be forgiven? Is forgiveness truly so hard to seek? Is guarding fear really so awful? I'm no different than how Jack protects fun or North protects wonder... I'm especially no different than Sanderson, he protects dreams... While I'm left to protect their rotten counterpart, the nightmares..." A particular nightmare appeared to him as he said this and Sanderson was surprised to see the Bogeyman laugh. "Not all of you are completely rotten..."

As Pitch continued to ramble to himself and sometimes to a nightmare or two, Sanderson began to notice silver streams sliding down the pale man's face. Were those... tears? Was the King of all Fright crying right before him? Soon enough, those tears turned into sobs and the guardian's body crumpled to the floor of his lair. A mound of the darker sands piled beneath his head and around him. When the sobbing stopped and Sanderson noticed Pitch was asleep, he was frightened by the violent nightmares that appeared over the Bogeyman's head.

The Sandman wasn't really certain whether what he was doing was right or wrong, but he chose to give than to watch and not do a thing. No soul deserved such awful nightmares, not even the King of Nightmares himself. As Sanderson approached the nightmares galloping above Pitch's head in circles, they seemed to intensify. They were so horrid and it was almost as though he could even smell the stench of burning flesh. It took him a moment before he could grab hold of any of them, and soon after one was turned into the golden dust, the others were as well. The golden sands began to shape and mold into little figures. It was a small family, and Pitch was among them, happy and content.

Though the other guardians might not have approved of his actions, Sanderson was very well content with what he'd done. He was even happy to watch the other man's dream pan out, such beautiful things unfurling. Even if Pitch was his complete opposite, the Sandman had to admit, he was somewhat like himself. Sanderson never admitted his loneliness or pitied himself, but he did have that same touch of loneliness. It was just harder to see with how much love and joy he gave to so many other souls. It was his selfless nature that left himself feeling so lonely, though.

Suddenly, Pitch's dream began to twist and darken, he furrowed his brows and groaned, gripping hopelessly at the sands near himself. Though Sanderson was even more so uncomfortable risking another incident as what happened that terrible night the King of Nightmares ruled all, he got a little closer and pulled Pitch up into his lap. He began stroking his hair and silently murmuring lullabies on his breath. Soon the dream went back to normal and Pitch quit his tossing and turning. Sanderson smiled warmly, really truly happy that the man before him was having a sweet dream. He pondered if he'd been plagued by the more gruesome of nightmares for longer than he knew.  
"!" Sanderson would've yelped if he could, as Pitch awoke steadily to realize who's lap he was sleeping in suddenly. Both the King of Sweet Dreams and Nightmares stared for a moment, the Sandman gulping and looking extremely apologetic while the Bogeyman was entirely uncertain of how to react.

"...Sanderson, what on earth are you doing in my lair? Won't the other guardians think you a traitor if you are here?" Pitch seemed much more mellow than earlier, had the dream possibly calmed him? Though there was a somber feeling to his sharp words. The Sandman huffed and shook his head. "How so, hmm?"

The Sandman quickly began telling him through sand pictures that he was a grown guardian and older than most of them, so they had no right to tell him what he was allowed to do or not do. When Pitch unintentionally laughed at this, Sanderson grew even more frustrated.

"I understand, you're a grown man, but even grown men and women are quick to judge."

"?!" Sanderson looked quite insulted and offended, as Pitch should have known the Sandman of all guardians was the most patient and certainly the slowest when it came to judging character. Even if Pitch had technically killed him in a way, he still couldn't jump to automatic conclusions. He wasn't some star gazing fool! He was able to observe many things the other guardians were very slow to realize. Pitch should have especially known that with being his counterpart!

"My apologies Sanderson, but you did in fact throw me around with those sand whips of yours. How am I supposed to know you won't do that again for a good giggle?" Pitch slowly rose, raising clouds of the dark sand up so he could rise somewhat more easily. With that, the Sandman grew even more frustrated, simply floating around and to the front of Pitch. Then gripping his shoulders firmly, but still softly, he looked him dead in the eye. Despite his golden counterpart looking soft and hardly a formidable foe, Pitch knew he was more than a formidable foe when angered.

"What is it you are trying to achieve here, little man?" Choosing to not look weak in front of his counterpart, Pitch looked him back in the eye. Any normal bystander wouldn't have noticed, but Pitch showed clear signs of fear in his eyes. That fear was not simply of getting beaten up again, but that the only company he'd had other than the nightmares would be leaving soon. Even though Sanderson wasn't a master of fear or understanding it entirely, he also was not a fool.

"..." Sanderson's sand formed little question marks after a moment and his expression was soft. He gently raised a hand to caress the angular cheek of the Nightmare King. It was sharp, but there was a cloaked softness to it. He gave a gentle reassuring smile, and Pitch simply stared. As Pitch was about to question it, Sandy simply began forming sand pictures that told him it was not a joke and he wasn't making fun of him... He even told him how he'd listened to what he'd said earlier and that he was sorry for how the other guardians were so quick to label him. As the Sandman "told" him all of this, the Bogeyman found himself in tears before he wrapped his thin, boney arms around the soft, fluffy man before him.

Pitch had so longingly yearned for someone to just cry on. He needed anyone, just anyone to be there and understand he wasn't a complete evil guy. All he needed was that forgiveness and that love and care that surely everyone deserved. At least, everyone who had truly done their best to try and come to amends for what they've done. He felt that was fair enough, and he was certainly glad at least one guardian did not view him as pure evil. The King of Sweet Dreams left his dusty cold heart with a warm sensation that simply caused the tears to continue to fall as he continued crying on him.

No longer would his tears and sobs sing him to sleep, and the howling winds and nightmares would no longer haunt him. At least, they weren't near as violent and gruesome as before. Soon when Pitch had fallen asleep once again, Sanderson left, but not without leaving Pitch an hour glass filled with golden sand. The sand inside danced and formed his dreams, chasing off the stronger nightmares. So as the Nightmare King slept peacefully, there was finally a single night when not a soul was having a gruesome nightmare. It was likely to take a toll on Pitch, but he was responsible for missing his shift. Even if he missed it due to Sanderson's good deed.


End file.
